The rising sun mixes with the cold morning air to produce a thick haze, cradled by the Boinne valley. But the prow of my boat tears gently through the ghostly curtain as I row myself back to Inver Colpa.

The season is Lughnasadh, and the great Feis in honor of Lugh and his mother are now behind me. After rolling the burning wheel down the hill, Cormar returned home with the chariot while I remained in Tara. There were farmers, fennidh and druids that needed ferrying home, so I remained behind to offer my services. I was paid handsomely in grain, wine, beef and silver!

I look forward to returning home and hearing Mac recount the events of the week. The festival was desperately needed, especially after the tragedy of the stone-cutter, Ceirdwyn and Crom Cruach. ...Crom Cruach? I nearly forgot -- Cormar is Lugh.

I double my rowing speed, and my oars send the Dragonsilver briskly downriver.